Frank was young and handsome and popular.

Officers, passengers, and sailors, they all crowded round Frank.

They all forgot the martyred man who had saved him--the man who was dying in Crayford's arms.
Crayford tried once more to attract his attention--to win his recognition while there was yet time.

"Richard, speak to me! Speak to your old friend!" He look round; he vacantly repeated Crayford's last word.
"Friend ?" he said.

"My eyes are dim, friend--my mind is dull.